PAPERCUT

he would love to gut her. to tear her open, to paint the trees and rocks with her blood. but there would be a time for that, he had to remind himself. right now he was on a mission to please the aesir and vanir. he could always come back and finish this woman off. after all, a whore is always a whore. controlled mug twitched as a smirk appeared across it, a slight remnant of a chuckle escaping as she seemed to lose capability of speaking his native tongue. he had to give her credit where credit was due, even he, a master of the art of dramatics, found himself believing her charade.

a tightness in his groin begged him to give in; to forget his vocation and ravage this woman, inside and out. but.. he groaned, a rough and agitated sound forcing itself from a dry throat. ashen masts folded underneath him, profoundly ribbed carcass pressing along the taut, supple woman beneath it. every bone in his body ached, pleaded, and he was sure she knew he was growing weak as he grew against her. tenuous stilts straddled her lovely, womanly hips as he breathed into her. "i need something out of you, meine kleine schlampe." he would not call her by her name. not yet, not until she earned it. "only then will you get your release." he dipped his maw toward her treasure, allowing his cheek hairs to mingle with those in her thigh. salivated, svelte tongue slipped teasingly over her sweet spot, only lingering long enough to make her want more. "verstanden?"